


Hurry Home to You

by wardo_wedidit



Category: Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Reunions, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardo_wedidit/pseuds/wardo_wedidit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Andrew's long Spiderman press tour, he finally comes home to Jesse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurry Home to You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [tsnweek](). The title is taken from [Slow Show](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCR0Tr2HTfA) by The National .

It is one of those summer days where the heat has made everything quiet, tangles into things and settles on top of them, taking everything for its own.  And everything just seems to surrender, giving into the high temperatures and the humidity and falling quiet, with no more fight than a hush.  It thickens the air, but not unpleasantly. 

At least, not now, because Jesse has the air conditioner cranked up to the highest level it can go.  It makes a disconcerting noise when it’s up that high, but it’s worth it for a little bit of a breeze.  Besides, Jesse can usually tune out that noise, especially times like now when he’s sprawled out across the couch reading, absorbed in words and in his own brain with little awareness of the world around him.  That is, other than idly petting Tolstoy, who has settled onto his stomach and is purring happily. 

He’s the low-maintenance cat, so it’s really no bother.  Jesse wonders idly where Bronte is, since she’s the one with the hyperactive personality, always trying to get into trouble.  He should probably go find her and make sure she’s not clawing up the carpet again, but he’s too comfortable here to move or care. 

In any case, at least he’s not bored or lonely anymore.  Andrew’s been gone for three and a half weeks, jetting around the world to promote Spiderman: going to flashy and exciting premieres and giving lots of interviews, delighting everyone with his charming personality and—Jesse shakes his head, cutting off that train of thought as quickly as it started. 

The thing is, he’s honestly not jealous.  Not at all.  Jesse _hates_ press tours, the feeling of so many eyes on him, _assessing_ and _judging_ and the always-present feeling of inadequacy that comes with it.  He’s gotten better over the years, but he’s still not fond of it.  But Andrew is _different_ , he fails to see it himself but Jesse can, crystal clear.  Andrew’s earnestness and sense of humor and just general _likability_ make him astoundingly good at that stuff, no matter how much it doesn’t like it.  And it’ll make him successful, even more than he is now, and that’s _amazing_ , and Jesse couldn’t be happier for him. 

It’s just… Well, goddamit, he misses him. 

Which is so silly, because it’s not like they don’t talk.  They text pretty much constantly, and Andrew calls every night when he gets back to his hotel room, no matter what time it is for Jesse (on Jesse’s strict orders, otherwise he’ll worry himself to death.  Somehow, Andrew still feels guilty for waking Jesse up in the middle of the night, which never fails to make Jesse roll his eyes fondly).  They’ve even been able to Skype on a couple of occasions, which has been nice too. 

Those times were great because he got to see Andrew’s face.  He sees Andrew’s face quite a bit actually, because he keeps up with the pictures and interviews and videos as they come out online, laughing at Andrew’s ridiculous clothing choices (who _wears_ stuff like that?  Sometimes it looks like Andrew wakes up in the morning and just rolls around in a pile of clothes, wearing whatever happens to stick to him regardless of whether or not it matches or how hipster-y it looks).  He sees Andrew smile out and all his adoring fans and fellow Spiderman geeks, sees him laugh with Emma at something she’s whispered to him during the panel. 

Maybe it’s a little masochistic to do that to himself, be able to _look_ at Andrew all he wants but not be able to reach out his hand and _touch_ him, to hear Andrew’s words until his hears ring with it, all the while knowing that it’s a poor substitute for feeling the tickle of Andrew’s lips against his ear as he giggles out something either sickeningly sweet and adoring or teasingly mischievous—meant just for Jesse.  But he can’t seem to stop himself.  Going without would be even _worse_ , it would be like trying to live without one of his senses for two and a half weeks, because he has so fixedly entangled himself with Andrew that they’ve become a part of each other. 

That’s the real reason Jesse liked the Skype sessions; they just felt that the most intimate thing they could manage while Andrew was away.  Texts are fine, but they can’t always be managed without being rude, and half the time Andrew tells him Emma’s reading over his shoulder, shaking her head affectionately at the two of them.  Phone calls are one step up, but they always seem t be cut short.  Either someone comes to fetch Andrew to take him to the next event or interview or at night they’re both so exhausted that their calls end prematurely when one or both of them falls asleep. 

At first it had been really hard—when they’re away from each other it always starts off that way for Jesse.  He knows he should have probably gotten over it a while ago; they’re both actors who have to go places and they have separate, uncompromising schedules, so it happens quite a bit.  But ever since they got together, Jesse just feels less _whole_ without Andrew; somehow a part of him is always yearning. 

This trip was no different.  He spent the first couple of days lying around the house and feeling sorry for himself, and then of course he felt guilty about _that_ , and so then he called the animal shelter and put him on the list for another foster cat adoption (and oh god what is Andrew going to say about _that_ when he gets back), and then he finally settled into it like he always does and relearned how to _be_ on his own. 

But, none of that really matters because _Andrew is coming home today_.  Well, at least for a little while—he has the New York premiere to do and then he gets a little bit of a break before any more obligations.  The thought hasn’t been far from Jesse all day.  He has butterflies in his stomach that won’t leave and his pulse races every time he hears an odd sound he thinks could _maybe_ the door.  It’s silly and he knows it, but there he is.  Andrew has always been able to do that to him, reduce him to a bundle of nerves and then seal him with kisses and gentle touches until he is whole again. 

Jesse finally gives up and puts his book down, marking the page carefully before laying it on the coffee table.  He’s been reading the same sentence for the last ten minutes at least, too restless to truly concentrate.  He snuggles into the couch a little more—momentarily unsettling Tolstoy, who makes a very grumpy noise and glares with only one eye open before he is comfortable again—closing his eyes for a minute and letting the calm air of the room wrap around him like a blanket.  He thinks he could probably fall asleep if not for the excited, anxious circles his brain is currently tied up in, and the stuttered, frantic rhythm of his heart. 

And just like that, as if by magic, there the sound of a key in the lock.  Jesse sits straight up, and then there is Andrew walking through the door looking exhausted, carrying a bag over one shoulder and wheeling another behind him.  The expression on his face is drawn and there are bags under his eyes, but then he turns and sees Jesse and it all just morphs into pure delight. 

Jesse scrambles off the couch and to his feet, awkwardly trying to pat down his hair and flatten his hair into behaving and instantly regretting his earlier choice to wear his ratty t-shirt and barely-fitting sweatpants.  But Andrew has never looked at him like he is anything less than perfect, and he certainly isn’t now. 

When he is close enough, he twines one arm around Jesse’s waist and pulls him closer, dropping his bags carelessly to the floor and kissing him immediately.  Jesse sighs into the kiss because _god he has missed this_ , having Andrew here and solid and real around him, kissing him breathless.  Andrew can’t quite keep his smile off his face, and finally he pulls back with a blissful exhale. 

“ _Jess_ ,” he says, still close enough that their noses are brushing.  Andrew’s eyes are still closed and his smile is as wide as Jesse’s ever seen it, and he can’t help it if he smiles too… Andrew’s smiles are contagious that way.  “I missed you _so_ much,” Andrew finally manages, opening his eyes to meet Jesse’s. 

And Jesse can’t breathe, can’t even agree, can’t even do anything but whisper, “I missed you too,” before he’s connecting their mouths again.  It’s been much too long, he can tell by the way his whole body responds to the way Andrew’s touching him: the goosebumps he gets as Andrew kisses his jawline, the blush he feels creeping in on his cheeks, the shiver he feels all over when Andrew gives him a soft, playful bite. 

Andrew walks them backwards so that they manage to fall onto the couch, still connected from their mouths down to the way their legs are tangled together.  He pulls back as soon as they land to pant against Jesse’s collarbone, groaning a little and closing his eyes. 

“Oh my god, I’m never going anywhere again.  Ever,” he declares as he nuzzles against Jesse’s chest.  “I want to sleep for a _year_.”

Jesse can’t help but laugh, because he _knows_ within two days at the apartment Andrew will be whining about how bored he is.  “You’re ridiculous,” he giggles, because it’s true.  With Andrew, that is _always_ true. 

“ _No_ ,” Andrew wails, adorably insistently and overdramatically, “I’m _exhausted._   I don’t think I’ve slept for longer than five hours at a time the past week and a half.  I swear, I did half an interview with my eyes _closed_.”

Jesse hums sympathetically and runs his fingers through Andrew’s hair in a way that is supposed to be soothing, but all it does is make Andrew shudder and tilt Jesse’s chin up for another kiss, catching Jesse’s laugh in his mouth.  He’s fumbling with the hem of Jesse’s shirt, trying to ruck it up enough to get his hands on skin.  It’s not long until that’s not enough and he’s tugging insistently at it, but is still resistant to break the kiss so that he can pull it up over Jesse’s head. 

Jesse rolls his eyes and pulls back when Andrew manages to get Jesse’s arm trapped and entangled in it.  He wants to sound annoyed but another laugh manages to escape his lips, and as finally pulls it off and drops his shirt onto the floor he says teasingly, “I thought you wanted sleep for a year.” 

Andrew smiles all crinkly, curling up and tugging at the corners of his mouth.  “I think it can wait a little while,” he says, moving downward and kissing Jesse’s chest and thumbing over a nipple, which always makes Jesse go boneless and pliant beneath him.  “I’ve missed this more,” he murmurs, kissing his way down Jesse’s chest. 

Which, of course, is why Bronte chose this exact moment to come scampering in and pounces on Andrew, wanting to play. 

Jesse can’t help it; he explodes in a fit of giggles.  Andrew lets out a groan of sexual frustration even as he picks her up and nuzzles her face, assuring her, “Yes, yes, I missed you too.” 

When he puts her back down he tries to level Jesse with his most serious look.  Jesse raises an eyebrow at him and smirks.  “Apparently your adoring fans _here_ missed you.”

Andrew catches his wry tone and moves closer, so that their faces are inches apart.  He’s stifling a smile, but barely.  “Really?  Just the cats?  That’s all?”

Jesse shrugs.  “As far as I know.  Also, specifically, just Bronte, there is no evidence that Tolstoy missed you and I don’t see him anywhere around.  He must have fled when you walked through the front door.”

“Because I seem to remember you admitting it.  About five minutes ago.”  Andrew continues, ignoring Jesse’s attempt at deflection completely. 

“Hm,” Jesse allows, nodding.  “I guess it’s possible.  ”

“Just possible?” Andrew can never keep a straight face for very long, and his smile is totally breaking through now. 

He looks into Jesse’s eyes in his usual, deeply perceptive way that would make Jesse uncomfortable if it came from anyone else.  He knows what Andrew probably sees there, because as much as Jesse banters and teases, he is just as bad as Andrew at concealing his feelings. 

In the end, Jesse doesn’t have to say anything, because a slow, dreamy smile spreads over his face and gives him away.  Andrew grins even wider like he knows he’s won, and edges in even closer and presses their foreheads together.  “I love you,” he murmurs into the space between them. 

Jesse’s breath catches just as it does every single time he hears it, murmuring “I love you too,” right back.  Andrew closes his eyes and presses his lips to Jesse’s. 

They kiss slowly and deeply, with none of the lust from a couple of minutes ago.  It’s a nice moment… until of course there’s a yowl in the kitchen from Tolstoy, wanting dinner. 

Andrew pulls back again, groaning and holding his head in his hands.  Jesse feels a little frustrated too at this point, and he lets himself sigh for a moment before getting up and pouring some cat food into their bowls. 

When he returns, he sees that Andrew has vacated the living room.  His brow furrows but he heads to the bedroom on a hunch, only to see Andrew passed out on the bed with his eyes closed. 

Jesse huffs out a laugh and curls up on the bed beside him.  Andrew must feel the weight of the bed shift because he jolts awake, mumbling, “’m up,” and Jesse collapses into giggles. 

Andrew pulls him closer and laughs too.  “I don’t appreciate you laughing at me,” he says through a chuckle of his own.  Jesse wants to respond but can’t, due to the fact that he’s currently laughing so hard that his stomach is jumping with it and he’s finding it hard to breathe.  “Why are you so giddy today?”

When his laughter abates and he’s able to collect himself, he draws in a long breath and lets it out.  “I don’t know,” he admits.  “I’m just really glad you’re back.”

Andrew nuzzles into the space between his shoulder and his neck, reaching across Jesse’s body with his right arm to tug on one of Jesse’s curls gently.  Jesse can’t see his face, but he can feel Andrew’s body pressed against him, warm and solid and _his_.  “Me too,” Andrew murmurs, sounding sleepy again. 

Jesse lets his eyes slide close, feeling so much more comfortable now than he has for three whole weeks.  He thinks if he fell asleep now it might actually be restful for once. 

“Will you marry me?” Andrew says, a shade louder, face still tucked into Jesse’s neck.

Jesse jolts up and turns to look at Andrew, who is sitting up slowly himself.  “What?”

Andrew gives him a fond look and repeats, “I _said_ , will you marry me?”

Jesse sputters a little because he can’t believe it, can’t even wipe the open-mouthed expression off his face, but it’s okay because Andrew scoots closer.  He’s shaking a little and it dawns on Jesse that he’s actually _nervous_ , which is just the most ridiculous thing. 

“But… why?” he manages, sounding a little choked. 

Andrew’s face melts into a helpless smile.  “Because,” he says, as he shifts closer, eyes fixed on the comforter.  “I love you.  When you’re not with me I spend the entire day mentally cataloguing things I have to remember to tell you, or wondering what you’re doing or how the cats are or what book you’re reading, and I send you ridiculous texts filled with emoticons, and even though you _hate_ texting and you hate smiley faces even more, you always reply.  Because I want to grow old with you and have anniversaries and birthdays and _memories_ with you.  I want to spend every minute of every day with you, but that would be impractical, so this is the next best thing.” 

He finally looks up at Jesse and they lock eyes.  Jesse’s eyes are watery and he’s trembling a little, but he grabs for Andrew’s hands and snakes one hand around his neck, pulling him in for a tearful kiss. 

Andrew kisses back for a minute, before he cuts it off and says breathlessly, “Is that a yes?”

Jesse smiles at him, completely in love and absolutely consumed with the depth of it.  “What do you think?”

Andrew’s smile quivers a little, but his eyes are certain.  “I hope--”

Now Jesse _has_ to roll his eyes and interrupt.  “ _Yes,_ you idiot,” he whispers, kissing him again and pushing Andrew gently onto his back. 

“Wait, wait--” Andrew says, giving Jesse a soft shove and fumbling around in his pocket.  He produces a ring box and Jesse gasps as Andrew pops it open.  “Can I?” he asks, and all Jesse can do is nod as Andrew slips the ring onto his finger.  

Andrew leans in to kiss him afterwards, tugging Jesse down and kissing him tenderly before pulling back to wipe away the tears from both their eyes. 

Then he yawns, and this time they both laugh. 

Once they’re got themselves together again, Andrew asks, his voice slurred with fatigue, “Can we nap now, Jess?”

“Yeah,” Jesse nods with a little bit of a laugh.  “Of course.”

Andrew settles into his side again, mumbling, "I love you," again.  Jesse says it back but isn't sure if Andrew hears it, because within a few minutes Jesse can hear his hushed snores.  But it’s okay.  Because they have lots of time.  Now, they have all the time in the world.


End file.
